Blame It on the Bikini - By Natalie Anderson Page 0,40

layer of defence she had left and exposed her to the full glare of his attraction. In every cell, all the way to her toes it hit—how gorgeous he was.

He wasn’t just sexy and funny and handsome. He was nice, thoughtful and caring. It was a side of him she’d never wanted to acknowledge. She’d preferred to keep him in the slutski spoilt-man stereotype. Mr Superficial Playboy. That was the easy way out. But the truth was he was utterly outrageous, utterly unashamed and yet utterly kind.

The lights came back on, and Lauren came up as the bar music resumed.

‘It was all her idea.’ Brad curved his arm around Lauren’s shoulders and drew her close.

‘That’s not true.’ Lauren shook her head firmly.

‘Lauren found everything.’ Brad gave his sister a sharp look.

‘He came up with it when we were playing tennis at the club the other week.’

‘It was supposed to be a party for you,’ Mya said, too shaky inside to look at Brad at this moment.

‘I don’t need a party.’ Lauren shrugged. ‘I go to parties all the time.’

‘I’m getting you back for your birthday,’ Mya promised.

Lauren just laughed as one of her boys claimed her for the dance floor.

‘How did you do all this?’ Mya asked Brad, her mouth dry and still not looking at him.

‘I had help,’ he confessed. ‘With the catwalk and the lighting and the music and stuff.’

Mya shook her head and looked across the room. ‘Where did you find all of it?’

‘My mother’s itemised storage system. Lauren had kept them all.’

Well, it had mainly been Lauren’s clothes Mya had messed with. The only thing Mya had kept was the dress she was now wearing.

‘And you called on all your girlfriends to model for you.’ She felt overwhelmed. ‘Why did you do it?’

‘I found some of the pictures of you,’ he said softly.

‘You and your pictures.’ She stole a quick glance at him.

His mouth had twisted into a wry smile and that soft expression was in his eyes. ‘None as good as the one you sent me, but ones Lauren took when you guys were mucking around a few years ago. You were so bold and so creative. Why have you given all that up? You have real talent.’

‘No,’ she scoffed, totally downplaying it.

‘Didn’t you just see that standing ovation?’

‘You set it up.’ She couldn’t resist the urge to lean closer to tease him. ‘All those beautiful models and all their glorious skin?’

Her words drew a reluctant smile to his lips. ‘All that aside, you really do have talent,’ he insisted.

‘I appreciate this, so much,’ she said softly, her throat aching because it was such a kind thing he’d done for her. ‘But I don’t have time to do that any more. It was a hobby. Life has moved on from that stuff.’

She blinked as bleak frustration dimmed his eyes. ‘Mya, you don’t have a life.’

‘I do,’ she argued, quiet but firm. ‘And I’m lucky enough to have friends.’ Ones who cared. She might even dare put him in that category after tonight. Except, grateful as she was for this night, she didn’t want to lock him away in that neat and tidy box.

Something flashed in his eyes and was almost immediately blanked out. All that remained was resignation—she felt it too.

He smiled as another guest walked up to talk to them. It was that charismatic smile of his, yet strangely devoid of depth. Despite the excessive heat of a crowded club-floor on a hot summer’s night, Mya’s skin cooled as if the first spears of winter had bitten their way through the hot warehouse bricks. His walls were back up; that automatic charming gleam hid the honesty in his eyes. It felt as if she’d lost something precious.

Brad watched her mingle, the gnawing feeling inside worsening with each minute that she laughed and interacted and clearly had fun. She was having a great time, but it wasn’t enough. He was used to getting what he wanted—easily. Giving up what he wanted wasn’t nearly so easy. Especially when she looked at him with that expression in her eyes—the one that told him he could have what he’d wanted more than anything these past couple of weeks.

But successful though it may be to a point, this night was also a failure. She’d appreciated his effort, but she hadn’t understood it. He wanted her to understand she had so much more to offer the world if she’d just give herself a chance, if she just let go of